


The Witches Brew Café

by Gingerlis



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, I love these two idiots, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-01-28 22:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gingerlis/pseuds/Gingerlis
Summary: Macy arrives to Hilltowne for her fellowship but never meets the Vera sisters. A studio apartment in a college town is not cheap and a job at the Witches Brew Café helps her make ends meet. While at work she meets Harry Greenwood, head of the Women Studies Department at the university.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Comments: 58
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look! It's that coffeeshop AU no one asked for! I saw a vacancy and I filled it, you're welcome. A slight divergence from Season 1.
> 
> I have no idea where this is going. I have no idea how much more I'll write of this. I did not have any plans.

The jingling of the bell over the door signaled yet another customer entering the bustling Witches Brew Café. Macy Vaughn tried to keep the exhausted sigh from escaping her lips as she pasted on a chipper smile, “Welcome to Witches Brew, what can I get you this morning?”

Moving to a new town and starting fresh in Hilltowne had sapped Macy of not just her energy but her limited funds. Not to mention the studio apartment she’d splurged on to maintain that high level of privacy she valued and the ever-approaching undergraduate loan repayment. But with those, albeit good, choices she was forced to pick up a part-time job on top of her full-time work at the lab. The Witches Brew allowed her to work the morning shift and still make her ten to six shift at the lab. But the early mornings and the late nights for the last three months had begun to take their toll and the bags under her eyes were deepening.

“One vanilla latte with almond milk, please.” A small smile tugged at her lips and Macy looked up into the warm brown eyes of her coworker, “And I guess a large hot coffee for myself. The latte’s for you, if you hadn’t guessed.”

“Galvin.” He was honestly her only friend in this town, her hectic schedule keeping her from acquiring any new ones and even keeping her from leaning into the chemistry they’d both felt when she’d first moved. “Thank you. But you know I can just make myself whatever I want. And that I’ve already downed four shots of espresso by now.”

He released a quick chuckle before the buzz of his phone in his pocket diverted his attention. “That’ll be…” quick finger work over the tablet on the counter punctuated the silence, “two dollars–” “Actually, Summer just texted. Can I get the hot coffee and a medium cinnamon latte with soy milk and an extra shot? She also wants to know when you have time for a second go at a game night? She found this really nice guy, Masters student in the policy sci department, does research for – “

“Galvin.” A quick tilt of her head and a frown emphasized her point, “Five eighty-five. And I’ll get back to you on the game night, I’m still sorry I backed out of the last one but there was that breakthrough at the lab and I just… plus I don’t need Summer setting me up on dates. I know she’s just trying to help but I just have a lot going on. It’s sweet of her though.” Through all this, Macy returned Galvin’s change, wrote his order on the cups and started pulling the espresso shots for Summer’s drink, effortlessly flowing between the tasks.

“I know you are, Macy. But we’re worried about you. I know Summer hasn’t known you long but she wants to get to know you. But you’re always working. You need a life, Macy.” Galvin tried to catch her eye and emphasis the concern there.

“Order up.” She handed him the two cups, continuing to avoid his eye contact. “I’ll check my schedule and get back to you, okay? I have to get back to work.” Before he could respond, she’d slid back down the counter to the register to continue taking orders.

It still stung. She’d hoped her and Galvin could… but she ran out of time. He met Summer. And she was gorgeous and smart and funny and could actually make time for him. And Galvin deserved that. She was happy for them; well and truly happy for them. But that sting of jealousy still hung low in her belly whenever she saw them together. Not because she wanted to be where Summer was, she’d seen the ship sail away with Galvin on it, but she wanted that happiness.

Macy was lonely. And she knew that there was somewhere she belonged; someone she belonged with, she just hadn’t found it yet.

“Good morning,” a crisp English accent broke her reverie, “Do you make London Fogs?”

_Oh._

* * *

Melanie Vera settled herself into one of the plush armchairs occupying one corner of the Witches Brew, making sure to toss her leather jacket into the opposite armchair and save a place for her supervisor and arch nemesis. Harry Greenwood, head of the Women’s Studies Department, had already made his way to the end of the dwindling line at the counter, her order on his lips.

When Mel had suggested this coffee shop as the spot for her dissertation meeting, Harry’s face had flickered briefly with a series of emotions she hadn’t been able to decipher. The white cis male that had replaced her mother at the university was slowly growing on her. Though she was loathe to admit it. So, while she wasn’t overly pleased to have to discuss her writer’s block on her dissertation with him, she respected that he was making an effort to reach out and accommodate her requests.

After a full month of ignored emails and openly hostile looks in the halls, Mel had finally thrown herself into his office with an angry tirade on her lips and a paper waving viciously in her hands. Allowing her to vent, Harry had calmly remained behind his desk, face only taking on a look of concern when he realized what had brought on this vehement conflict.

“Let me know what you’d like to do and I’ll support you anyway I can.”

That was it. One simple sentence. He didn’t try to brush away her feelings, tell her what to do, or what he was going to do. He let her choose the path and supported her at every step. The student was disciplined, removed from her class, and put on notice that one more act such as that would have him permanently removed from the school. And Harry stood stalwart and silent behind her.

While he may have earned her respect, he wasn’t yet forgiven for taking her mother’s place, a deeper hurt that barely even applied to him and yet affected him all the same. But he didn’t take offense nor did he try to change her mind, he simply offered his support and guidance as her boss.

But now, Mel couldn’t help the fond smile that crept on her lips as she watched Harry fumble through ordering with the cute barista that appeared equally as awkward. She was definitely going to tease him about this when he got back to the table. Like coworkers do; because they weren’t friends.

* * *

_Oh._

Reverberating through her head was that single syllable, not quite settling anywhere and not allowing her to focus on anything else. Well, except his vibrant green eyes, lidded slightly at the friendly smile entwining his lips, cheeks creasing.

_Oh._

“What?” He’d said something. Those lips had moved, releasing sounds; sounds that probably formed a sentence, maybe a question?

“London Fog? Or I could just have a nice cuppa if you don’t?” Oh, he was ordering. That made sense, this was a coffee shop and she was the barista. “Honestly any tea would do, I recognize that my standards may be high but I’ve attempted to be realistic about the limitations of American coffee shops at this point. And I don’t want to appear the stuck-up Brit that most people associate with any accent and a tea order.”

  
He was still talking. Oh goodness. She should say something.

“We have tea!” She blurted, a goofy smile lightening her whole face. Nailed it.

“Oh! Good! I like tea!” His eyes slowly widened as that last sentenced settled between them, dread and embarrassment hitting his features hard. A blush blossomed up his neck and onto his cheeks, an adorable pink that somehow made his green eyes even more vibrant. A flustered smile gripped his lips as his eyes flickered down to avoid direct eye contact; Macy immediately missed it.

A quick, minute shake of her head brought Macy back to focus. She was at work. She needed to concentrate, this was a customer. “One London Fog, what kind of milk would you like with that?” Hiding her own embarrassment behind a coffee cup, Macy began filling out the order.

“Oh, uhm, skim please. And a hazelnut café americano with room for milk. And a scone and a chocolate croissant please.” His voice was still tight from embarrassment but the British lull was still as intoxicating as ever, forcing Macy to glance up and catch his eye. A small smile passed between them as Macy finished scribbling on the cups, passing them to her right at the freshly arrived relief before the late morning rush rolled in.

“That’ll be fifteen twenty-eight. What’s the name on the order?” Grabbing the two pastries and sticking them on plates, Macy reached across the counter to hand them to the man, “Harry.” Fingers brushed and another blush threatened at Macy’s cheeks before she shrugged it off, reinstating that overly-chipper smile from this morning. “Your order will be right up at the end of the counter… Harry.”

With that she slipped off to the left, ducking into the backroom and allowing Jeremy to take over the register.

“Oh no.”

* * *

Harry returned to the table, quickly dropping off two plates of pastries before sweeping quickly back to the counter, looking anxiously towards the door to the back more than the barista finishing up their drink order. Waiting patiently, Mel attempted to keep down the mischievous glint in her eyes and smile until the flustered Brit settled back down across from her, distractedly handing her the wrong cup.

“I think this one’s yours, Harry.” The smile pinching at her lips was hard to tamp down.

“What?” His eyes refocused downwards to the cups before them. “This one must be yours,” eyes wide and innocent, “unless that cute barista was trying to give _me_ her number.”

“What!” His hands flew out quickly, reaching for the cup in her hands to quickly twist the cup around. A Witches Brew logo met his bewildered yet slightly excited eyes. “Her number isn’t here.” He glanced back up at her, face twisting in confusion.

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t want it to be.” A bark of laughter escaped her lips, hands gripping the table top, the warm wood feeling solid under her hands. “Go ask for her number, dummy.”

They weren’t friends, she insisted to herself. But if the distracted look that covered his face as anything to go by, she would certainly help him figure out a way to get a date with the sweet looking barista. Maybe she could even get Maggie in on the plot, the sorority girl seemingly always willing to stick her nose in others’ love lives.

“What- no- I- I don’t want her number! I mean not that I _don’t_ want her number, more like a man should never ask a woman for her number while she’s at work. She’s inherently at a disadvantage. And I’m sure she was just being friendly as is expected of someone working in the service industry. Plus, I’m busy. With you. And your dissertation. Speaking of, how is that going?”

Another laugh burst from Mel’s lips, her hand reaching out to pat gently at his that was placed palm down in front of him. “Alright, alright. I’ll let it go. My dissertation is going well.” Mel allowed Harry to divert the conversation away from the barista, for now at least. Launching into a fuller description of her dissertation subject, Mel missed the woman in question slipping out the door, a slight look of disappointment on her face.

* * *

Of course he had a girlfriend. He was an attractive, nice man with an accent. The way the other woman was familiarly patting his hand, laughing openly, and speaking enthusiastically only cemented that thought.

It was fine. She was fine. She was too busy anyway. And hey, maybe that guy Summer had found would satiate her loneliness. Maybe he too had green eyes, a bright smile, and a gentle face. A face that lingered well into her first two hours of microscope work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thank you all so much for your wonderful comments and support! It's all been so lovely.
> 
> I suppose a few quick notes are in order: 1) I'm relatively new to writing fanfic, 2) not writing, I literally write for a living though not creatively which leads to 3) I have no idea what my posting will be for this, since I spend all day writing for work I'm not sure how my motivation will be to come home and write more? But I'm trying? 4) I'm horribly awkward (which is possibly why I can write it so well, these are practically snapshots of my life) so I'm super shy and not good with responding to comments but I see them and I love them and I appreciate you all and lastly 5) I have nothing of this planned I am literally making it up sentence by sentence because I plan nothing.
> 
> I hope that answers some of your questions, I'll try and see if I can respond directly to your comments soon because you are all so sweet and I want to make sure you know how appreciative I am.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this next chapter!

“Maggie Vera!” The name ricocheted up the staircase landing in the ears of the contrite nineteen-year-old. Freezing on her way down from the attic, Maggie clutched the giant tome closer to her chest, worried her sister would notice her breaking their unspoken rule: No one goes in the attic.

Ever since their mother’s death three months ago, Mel and Maggie had tiptoed around the base of the stairs leading up into the attic, neither even glancing up, breaths practically held in fear. The room was laced with a memory too dark to breach; until this morning. Her Psych 101 class was doing a unit on family dynamics and societal psychology. Specifically, the professor wanted the students to do some genealogical research on how the societal standings of their family lead to their current psychological outlook. Which meant going through old family books their mother had kept in the attic.

Fingers tracing their way through the dust, Maggie let her eyes flicker quickly between the dark corners of the attic, never landing on the round, porthole window at the far end. The glass had been fixed and it was the only thing in the attic that looked at all touched in the last three months. Even when Marisol was alive, the attic was never organized, but it was never dirty. Now, the dust was settling thickly and Maggie felt a quick tug at her heart at the thought that Marisol would be disappointed. Grabbing the duster near the entrance to the room, eyes still steadfastly avoiding the window, Maggie worked methodically through the room, dusting and searching as she went.

But instead of a book on the Vera family, Maggie found a cryptic tome placed oddly on a pedestal in the middle of the room. Flipping through it idly only increased her befuddlement. Glamour potions? A spell to take away the hurt? What was this? The crash of a door downstairs broke through Maggie’s confusion, drawing her attention to the return of her older sister.

Mel was home. And she was in the attic.

Creeping her way down the attic stairs, ears peeled for the familiar thump of Mel’s boots up the winding first-floor stairs, Maggie reached the bottom before her name echoed up from downstairs.

“Maggie Vera!” But the voice wasn’t accusatory, it was more excited and mischievous than Maggie had heard it since their mom’s death. 

“Be right down!” Maggie called back, dashing quickly to her open door, tossing the book roughly on her bed, dragging the folded blanket at the end over it and slamming her door behind her as she left. Feet thundered quickly down the stairs to take in Mel standing at the base, grinning up at her, eyes crinkled in delight.

“Want to play matchmaker with me?”

* * *

Harry power-walked across the campus quad, making his way for the Humanities building on the other side. His mind was a cacophony of thoughts: papers, staff meetings, warm brown eyes and a shy smile, Mel’s dissertation. Not to mention the giant white whale of a subject he’d been puzzling over for the past three months.

“Finally.” A voice exhaled in exasperation as he entered his locked office, “I’ve been waiting for over fifteen minutes. What took you so long?” Harry tugged gently at the arms of his suit coat, delicately attempting to keep any tugs or creases from the delicate cotton fabric. Once the suit coat was gingerly removed, he walked over to the chair facing his desk, his own chair already occupied.

“Apologies for keeping you waiting. I had a meeting with Mel on her dissertation down at the café off Holly St and our discussion of the modern feminist movement in pageant culture grew heated.” Settling his suit coat over the back of the chair, Harry finally looked up at the other occupant of his office. The familiar blond hair, blue eyes, and coy smile of Charity Callahan met his gaze. His stomach gave a familiar flutter but he pushed it down. With the death of her sister came the death of whatever they’d had. And he knew—they both knew— that it was better that way.

But love was a fickle emotion. Harry would always love Charity, but the only relationship left between them now was a professional one. Charity’s matter-of-fact voice drew him out of his reverie. 

“So, have they gotten their magic yet?”

* * *

“So, wait. You want me. To help you. Set your boss up—the boss who took mom’s job whom you hate—with a nice barista at that cute new café off campus?” Maggie sat cross-legged on the couch in the living room, hands weaving through her hair to loosely braid it. Mel sat at the edge of the chair opposite her, “You should have seen them, Maggie. They were so awkward. It was adorable.”

Tying off the end of the loose braid with a hair tie from her wrist, Maggie turned to Mel, grinning. “You like him.”

Mouth dropping open in disgust and disbelief, Mel quickly stood from her seat. “I do not! We are not friends! He is an entitled cis white male who does not deserve to take mom’s place in the Women’s Studies Department.” Abandoning the living room in her disgust, Mel strode into the kitchen to set the teapot onto the burner, turning it on high. Without turning around, Mel could tell that Maggie had followed her into the room, leaning her elbows on to the kitchen aisle and staring at her back.

“Mel, it’s okay. You can like Professor Greenwood. Just because the university hired him doesn’t mean he’s responsible for Mom’s death. And isn’t it better if you like the person who took over Mom’s department?” Maggie’s eyes bore into Mel’s back, trying to give her the space that she’d not just needed, but demanded, over the last few months while still trying to ease her forward.

Mel’s back remained rigid, arms stiff as her hands gripped the edge of the counters. A deep breath lifted up her back, followed by a deep slow exhalation. “I know. I know it’s not his fault. It’s just so hard.” The break in Mel’s voice gutted Maggie. Making her way around the island, Maggie wound her arms around Mel, laying her head flat against her back.

Minutes passed, Mel’s shoulders slowly relaxed, their breaths syncing as a calm worked its way through them.

“So.” Maggie spoke lightly into Mel’s back, arms still softly wrapped around her sister. “Tell me about this barista.”

* * *

Harry poured out the tea, first into Charity’s and then his own, as is only proper. Settling the electric kettle back onto the shelf near his desk, Harry took his seat across from Charity at the small seating area in his office.

“From what I can tell their powers are still bound.” Mixing in a hint of milk, Harry offered the same to Charity who waved a hand to decline it. “Clearly, they’ve been very emotional since their mother died, so it’s been hard to tell if they’ve been acting differently. Mel, specifically, has had a lot of fluctuations; she’s been struggling with Marisol’s death and hasn’t really reached out for support. This past month I think we’ve really made some progress. In our discussion today about pageant culture, she actually said I made a good point. She then, of course, countered my point with a very well-made comment on nationalism and colorism. She’s really quite brilliant.”

Tea going cold in front of him, Harry excitedly waved his hands as he delved into the relationship building between himself and Mel while Charity placidly sipped her tea. “And her sister?” Another sip of her tea, a slight raising of her eyebrow.

“Maggie?” Raising the now tepid tea to his lips, Harry attempted to hold back the downturn of his lips and the grimace from the bitter taste. “She seems to be managing her emotions better. Though she may be avoiding them. It’s hard to tell, I really only see her in passing and when she comes to see Mel.”

Glancing over at the electric kettle Harry internally debated what would be worse: downing his lukewarm tea or top off the lukewarm tea with hot water, therefore, diluting the tea itself. Neither were great options so instead, Harry just deposited his teacup onto the saucer on the table, folding his hands gently into his lap.

“And…” Charity mirrored his movements, depositing her teacup onto the table as well, “Has there been anyone else? In their lives? New, I suppose?” The hesitance and uncertainty so characteristic of Charity’s speech pattern drew a quizzical look from Harry as his fingers started drumming lightly on his folded arm.

“New?” He echoed, tilting his head slightly and furrowing his brow.

“Yes,” her own hands started fluttering against her thighs, foot tapping lightly on the ground, eyes fluttering around the room searching for purchase. “Perhaps a new friend? A woman to lean on in these troubling times?”

The question felt oddly specific and yet entirely non sequitur. “I’m not sure I follow.” Harry puzzled, distractedly sipping for his tea again, face immediately upturning in disgust at the cold taste.

Charity’s eyes quickly flashed to Harry’s, holding him in her gaze as she built up to something she clearly was reluctant to discuss. “She said ‘I have three,’ Harry.”

“Who?”

“Marisol. I spoke with her a few days before she died and she said, ‘I have three.’” A quick flash of sadness broke through Charity’s hardened, business-like stare. He knew they were friends, Charity and Marisol, and her death had affected more than her two daughters. Reaching out he gently laid a hand over her own that was tapping anxiously at her thigh. Her whole body stiffened at the movement and Harry hastily drew his hand away. Right. Business.

“Three?” He repeated. “But do you think that could mean…?”

“The Charmed Ones.”


	3. Chapter 3

Collapsing in a giant huff on the bed, Macy closed her eyes as she attempted to toe-off her sneakers without moving the rest of her body. After several minutes of unsuccessful attempts, Macy groaned, rolling to her side and tucking her body up enough for her hands to reach her feet. The freeing feeling of her shoes falling off her feet and the resounding thud as they hit the floor elicited another deep sigh from Macy’s chest.

Yet another twelve-hour day between her two jobs and all she wanted to do was order take out from the small Indian place down the road and watch reruns of Heaven’s Vice until she fell asleep. While there were certainly times where she contemplated the necessity of her own apartment, this was not one of those times. The moonlight streamed through the row of skylights in her attic apartment, the stars twinkling brightly through the window directly above her bed. The studio attic apartment was quaint, fitting only a bed, desk, nightstand, dresser, and kitchen island/tv stand, it was hers. She had her own little kitchenette, small bathroom, and no roommates. Just the way she liked it. Sure, the silence echoed on occasion and that desperate grip of loneliness overcame her, but it was better than fighting with someone over dirty dishes in the sink.

Off to her right, the nightstand buzzed with an incoming text message and with a grunt, Macy threw out an arm to smack against the phone resting there. Drawing it in close to her face, the vibrant light from the screen lighting up her fading makeup and chapped lips. She really needed to take that off, maybe even do a full facial routine: face mask and all. Oh, it was moments like this where Macy desperately missed the bathtub from her old apartment. The small shower that fit in her bathroom here did not do the trick.

Drawing her attention back the phone in her hands, Macy read the text that had arrived a few seconds ago. Galvin. “Hey, don’t think I’ve forgotten our conversation from earlier today. Summer says you’re coming to The Haunt on Friday night, that guy she mentioned is free and wants to meet you. I know, I know, boundaries, but you need to get out, Macy. And Summer thinks this is the only way you will. See you then!”

Groaning more, Macy flopped onto her back, dropping her phone on her chest as she stared back up through the skylight at the dark sky. She didn’t want to be forced on a date. She didn’t want to feel like someone else needed to find someone for her. She was a smart, young, attractive, woman with a sparkling personality that any guy would be lucky to have. Or so she told herself in the mirror each morning as she dragged herself to The Witches Brew before the sun dawned in the sky. And yet another shift waited for her when she rose tomorrow.

Yet for once she didn’t feel that exhausted dread settle in her stomach at the thought of her shift tomorrow morning. And this may have something to do with the British accent, chin dimples, and sparkling green eyes that had lingered in the back of her mind for the rest of the day. A latent heat spread across her cheeks as her mind replayed the conversation they’d had as he’d attempted to order coffee that morning: the fumbled words and run-on sentences from both parties increasing the awkwardness of what should have been a simple exchange.

Her mind however conjured up the final image of him, Harry, she had in her mind’s eye. Him, smiling cheerfully at a Latino woman for whom he’d bought a drink and a pastry. Maybe they weren’t dating? Maybe they were just friends who went out on coffee dates together. Friends with such casual closeness that they held hands. Those kinds of friends.

Another groan escaped Macy’s chest as she hid her face in the striped duvet covering her bed. She needed to forget about him. She’d seen him once, they’d exchanged a handful of words, and he’d returned to his girlfriend. Turning back to her phone, Macy typed out a quick response to Galvin’s text before she could overthink it.

“Sure, I can make Friday! I’m excited to hang out with Summer more and I’ll even let her push me at this man she’s found. Thanks for keeping me from becoming a hermit, Galvin. I truly appreciate it.” Instantly hitting send, Macy pulled up the delivery app on her phone to place an order for saag paneer, garlic naan, and a mango lassi. At least that could go right today, she’d figure out Friday when Friday came.

* * *

Lifting her head off the corner of her pillow, Maggie hastily wiped the small droplet of drool that had puddled on the corner of her mouth from the previous night. Rubbing her eyes to knock out all the crusty bits, she dared not look in a mirror and reflect on the damage her night had done to her complexion. Strained eyes, flattened hair, and under-eye bags was not the look of a Kappa pledge. It was the look of a girl who’d spent all night reading an archaic book on spells and potions and demons and witches.

At first, Maggie thought it was a fun fictional book written in the style of JK Rowling’s Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. But the book seemed ancient, pieced together by many hands in many different handwritings and styles. Hand-drawn illustrations filled up the pages, depicting not just herbs and fantastical creatures, but ghouls and beasts Maggie had never even heard of. Seeming to cast a spell over her, Maggie read page after page of the tome, eyes drooping as the night wore on but too enthralled in the knowledge presented to close them. Looking down at the page she’d left off on, she tilted her head slightly in confusion as she read: “Unbinding Spell.”

Sure, Maggie had felt the urge to try out a few of the spells as she’d skimmed over them last night. A spell to speak with the dead, a spell to locate your true love, a spell of persuasion. But the cracked spine on this page drew her in, her fingers tracing the words, eyes memorizing every line. Without overthinking it, Maggie began reciting the spell. The words flowing mellifluously from her lips.

“…_Absolve in potentiam tres. Solutio confecta est._”

With the last word, Maggie felt—nothing. Crinkling her nose in confusion and dissatisfaction. Maggie tossed the book to the other side of the bed and threw off the covers. She felt silly. Of course it wasn’t going to change anything. She didn’t even know what an “unbinding spell” did anyway. Plus, magic didn’t exist. She needed to get ready for class and she had a coffee date with Lucy this morning.

Rolling out of bed and grabbing her towel, Maggie made her way down the hall towards the bathroom, book remaining open on her bed.

* * *

Another morning, another shift at The Witches Brew. The early morning crowd had kept Macy busy before she could even consider how tired she was. Four shots of espresso in and she honestly couldn’t even tell whether she’d actually slept the night before. That probably wasn’t a good thing. But the morning rush had petered out and now the late stragglers were drifting in, rumpled clothes and college textbooks tucked under their arm. One particular customer had been holding up the line for three minutes already, roughly the amount of time it took to finish an order.

“So like, I want the caramel macchiato with soy milk and a pump of hazelnut syrup but I want less caramel because that’s too much sugar but enough caramel to still taste it, because duh it’s a caramel macchiato. And a sprinkling of cinnamon over the foam, but only one dash because any more than that and the cinnamon gets clumpy and you get pockets of cinnamon when you drink it. Got that?” This all said as her fingers frantically flew over a phone clutched between two perfectly manicured hands.

“Yes, a medium soy caramel macchiato, light caramel, one pump hazelnut, light cinnamon. Anything else I can get for you this morning?” Without looking up from her phone, the blonde girl shoved her card into the chip reader. Withholding the eye roll she desperately wished she could give, Macy cheerfully pressed the acceptance on her register screen and handed over the receipt that printed. “Your order will be up shortly, thank you and have a great day!”

The apologetic grimace that the next girl had on her face let Macy know that she was with the blonde who’d already made her way down to the end of the counter to wait on her drink. “I’m sorry about Lucy. She just has very specific tastes.” Macy couldn’t help but return this girl’s smile. She was beautiful, her long brown locks lay in waves down her back, and her outfit clearly screamed fashion conscious. But what really struck Macy was the genuine kindness shining through her eyes, as though this girl truly saw her and respected her and was happy to speak with her. Working in the service industry, especially an industry providing caffeine to caffeine addicts, she was more used to remaining unseen and unappreciated, but this girl refused to conform to that expectation. “Oh, it’s no problem. Welcome to The Witches Brew, what can I get for you today?”

“Oh, my sister said your chocolate croissants are to die for. I’ll have one of those and a skinny vanilla latte with almond milk.” Looking down at the register, Macy missed the quick picture the girl snapped of her, only recognizing the fast finger movements of a person texting on their phone. “That’ll be $5.45, let me just grab that croissant and you can pick up your drink at the end of the counter. Have a great day and I hope to see you again!”

Accepting the pastry bag from Macy, the girl gave her a few more interesting looks before following her friend down to the end of the counter before heading out the door once both girls had their drinks. Macy truly did hope she came back to the café, it would be nice to see more friendly and open faces, and there was just something about her that drew Macy in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay everyone, it's been an absolute hectic two weeks. I hope you all enjoyed this next chapter. Hopefully I can get one more chapter out before I go on vacation next week, perhaps this weekend? Anyway, hopefully things are ramping up a bit?


	4. Chapter 4

A soft buzz echoed through the classroom as Mel lingered after her class had emptied. Finishing up the last note from this day’s discussion on gender fluidity in popular news media, she dropped her pen back down to the desk and lifted up her phone. A new message from Maggie. Opening the message, Mel was greeted with a serious and slightly unflattering photo of the barista from the café at a downward angle as though taken surreptitiously. Harry’s barista. Or, soon-to-be Harry’s barista, if she and Maggie had their way.

_Is this the one your friend’s crushing on?_

Rolling her eyes at how unsubtle her sister was, Mel hastily responded back. _Not my friend. But yes, that’s her. Can you not be creepy around her though? We need to be able to chat with her without freaking her out._

Setting her phone back down, Mel began shuffling the papers into a pile, clipping them together nicely with a paper clip and stacking her notes on top of her class outline. Another buzz from her phone.

_She’s cute! And such a friendly smile! I can see why your boss would have a crush on her. I am so in. Spoke with the shift manager, his girl’s here Mon-Thur till 9:45 and 11-3 on Sundays. Let me know what’s next!_

Glancing at the time, Mel quickly began shoving the papers into her bag, shoving her phone in her pocket without responding to Maggie. Shit shit shit. She had thirty minutes before the barista’s shift was over. Shoving a bro lingering outside the women’s studies department in the misguided misconception that ergo more available women aside, Mel beat a hasty step to Professor Greenwood’s office knowing he didn’t have a class until noon and would likely be grading papers there now.

Knocking quickly and succinctly, Mel shifted from foot to foot waiting for the muffled British voice to echo through the door. Instead, hushed whispers, a crackling buzz, and a brief awkward silence met her ears and she tilted her head in confusion. “Professor Greenwood? Are you in there?”

“One moment!” It was definitely Harry—Professor Greenwood, but his voice sounded strained and higher than normal.

Leaning her head into the door, nearly pressing her ear to it Mel waited a beat before, “Everything okay in there, Harry?”

More quick shuffling before footsteps approached the door and the lock turned. Harry stood before her, mindlessly smoothing down the fictional creases in his lapel. “There was just a… tea… emergency?” Even he didn’t sound overly convinced of the words leaving his mouth but instead of calling him out on it, Mel just looked behind his shoulder, eyes briefly scanning the room.

“I thought I heard another voice?” The room looked empty but oddly, there were two teacups on either side of Harry’s desk. “I can go if this is a bad time?” A thought had suddenly materialized in Mel’s mind that hadn’t even dawned on her yesterday. Did Harry—Professor Greenwood, have a girlfriend?

Harry finished awkwardly straightening his persistently straight lapel before his hands moved first to his tie, and then his cuffs. “No, no, I was just talking… to myself.” Mel missed the cringe tugging up Harry’s face as she was too busy taking in his office.

Stepping out of his personal space, Mel gave him one suspicious look before changing the subject to the real reason she was here. “I was hoping to discuss something that came up in my class today with you if you have the time? We can go grab some coffee down at the Witches Brew, you seemed to really like their London Fog’s yesterday. My treat?” She knew she might be laying it on a tad thick, but the clock was ticking down.

“Oh.” His eyes blinked twice before a small sheepish smile grew on his face. “Yes, I certainly have time before my class at noon.” Sweeping back into his office, Harry grabbed his coat to ward off the oncoming chill of fall. “Please, lead the way.” Locking his office behind him, Harry waved an arm forward and Mel did not need the invitation to begin speed walking out the building and towards the café one block away.

With a quick stutter step, Harry caught up behind her weaving through the students running late for their 9:15 classes. “Are you in a rush, Mel? Because we can reschedule?” His breathless voice caught up to her ears and Mel turned to look over her shoulder, sweeping the ceiling as though hoping the lie she was about to tell was plastered there.

“No, I just… wanted to make sure they hadn’t run out of croissants. They were so delicious yesterday.” Holding the door open a half-second longer in the hopes it didn’t hit Harry as she exited the building, Mel kept a forced march across the quad.

Harry sped up to that half jog/walk people do when they’ve fallen behind to synchronize his pace with Mel’s. “You know, Melanie. I’ve actually been meaning to speak with you. I just wanted to let you know I really appreciate the time you’ve taken to speak with me lately about your dissertation and class updates. I know we had a rocky start but I truly find you to be a gifted academic with a brilliant and insightful take on–”

Mel abruptly stopped, turning to face Harry. “We’re not friends.” She noticed the sudden transition on Harry’s face from open earnestness to shock to confusion to a brief flicker of hurt. While his emotional journey was not unexpected, her own was. She felt guilt. And shame. She didn’t want to hurt him. But most of all, she didn’t want him to be disappointed in her. She respected him, she cared about his thoughts and feelings, and what was new, she wanted him to feel the same for her.

“Yet. We’re not friends yet. But, I suppose, against my better judgment, you’re growing on me.” The soft smile she sent his way was probably the most genuine she’d been with him since they’d met. His returning smile was equally sweet and Mel felt the bundle of hurt and resentment she’d let fester in her gut at him for her mother’s death and replacement unfurled a bit, slipping slowly away. Noticing the Witches Brew just beyond his right shoulder, Mel shook off the pleasant moment and moved back into business mode. “Come on, I need that chocolate croissant.”

* * *

Only fifteen minutes left in her shift at the Witches Brew before she could head over to the lab. It was going to be an easy day as the bacteria assay still had one more night to propagate before they could centrifuge out the DNA for analysis. But she could certainly work on some paperwork and writing for this paper before doing inventory. Honestly, there was no rush to make it into the lab on time, even her boss had suggested she take the day off. But Macy was nothing if not a workaholic and if she could take this day to get a little ahead then well… she’d be even more ahead.

The bell dinged over the door and Macy tried not to groan, of course a customer would come in right at the end of her shift, after Jen had left for the morning but before Jeremy arrived. Pasting on that customer service smile, Macy looked up for that Approachable Happy Worker appearance. Immediately her smile froze on her face, heart warring in her chest. It was him. And his girlfriend. The indulgent smile he gave the petite woman as she marched with purpose through the door he held open leaning into the assumption that they were certainly a couple.

“I’ll grab some seats, can you grab the drinks, Harry? And don’t forget my croissant!” The woman immediately began assessing the artistically lit café as though creating a pros and cons list for every available, and some unavailable, chairs. Odd. But Macy’s eyes quickly trained themselves on the man bashfully approaching the counter.

“Hi.” Simple. Basic. Unassuming. Starting off better than last time. “How can I help you today? A skim London Fog?” The pleased smile on his face was quickly reflected in her own face and for a few beats the two stared at each other. Harry’s head gently nodded his agreement.

_Oh._

Right. Breaking eye contact, Macy punched in the drink order. “Anything else?” She had to keep focused. She was at work.

“No.” His eyes still hadn’t left her face, tracing every line, angle, and spot. Macy began to flush deeper at the intensity of his stare but not for a second did she feel uncomfortable. “Then that’ll be–”

“No, wait! I- I uhm- I forgot. I also need a hazelnut café Americano with room for milk and a chocolate scone.” He had abashedly looked down, tongue peeking out to quickly wet his lips. Macy was transfixed at that small movement and for a second, she almost missed the amendment to his order. “Right. The London Fog, the hazelnut café americano, and the chocolate croissant. Is that all, Harry?” With a slight intake of breath, Harry lifted his head back up, catching the beautiful smile lightening Macy’s face.

“You remembered.” His eyes wide before a small smirk twinkled at the edge of his lips and he leaned ever so slightly into the counter. Fighting back the slight embarrassment, Macy matched his smirk with her own, “You’re quite memorable. Not many stumble over a tea order.”

A light chuckle burst from his lips, unexpected from both of them but not at all unwelcome. “Well we Brits take our tea quite seriously, you must understand. And I had a fairly good reason to be distr–”

“Mace!” Rang across the café, simultaneous with the bell over the door. “Macy, I’m so glad I caught you!” Breaking eye contact with Harry, Macy leaned around him to see Summer walking quickly to stand next to him at the counter. “Oh, I’m sorry for barging in, please finish taking this man’s order. I just wanted to talk to you about your date on Friday.” Almost as though he’d been shocked by static, Harry drew back from the counter, reaching into his coat pocket to draw out his credit card.

“Oh, right. Of course. Sorry. Let me just ring this up for you.” Heart thudding wildly in her chest, Macy glanced around to locate the woman he’d come in with. The woman who was likely his girlfriend. The woman sending annoyed looks in their general direction. Oh no. Shame filled her gut at the notion that she’d just spent a few minutes flirting with another woman’s boyfriend in clear view of that woman. Jeremy had slipped in while she wasn’t paying attention and she distractedly handed him the order while avoiding all eye contact with the man still standing at the counter.

“Why don’t I get you a drink, Summer, and we can talk as you walk me to the lab? Galvin will be there?” She needed to get out of here and quick. The shame, embarrassment, and loneliness pierced her heart and only fresh air and movement would help. “On me.”

Slipping behind the espresso machine, Macy quickly began pulling a medium cinnamon latte with an extra shot and soy milk. Only allowing herself a few glances at Harry from around the coffee equipment, Macy breathed out deeply. That was close. She almost made a scene in the middle of the café and while Meredith, the owner, was pretty chill, fighting with customers over men would likely not go over well.

In two and a half minutes flat, Macy poured the steamed soy milk over the espresso, dashing some cinnamon on top and handing the warm to-go cup to the waiting, bubbly Summer. Draping her apron over the hook in the backroom, and making her way back out-front Macy only threw one more glance at the couple in the corner near the shelves of fantasy novels. But instead of the hostile look she’d expected from the petite woman with Harry, she got a cheerful smile and a small wave.

Before she could overthink the moment, Summer had linked their arms, pulling her through the café door out into the open air, weaving the tale of the man she was getting set up with. But the green eyes that flashed up at her just before she’d gotten all the way through the door still lingered in her mind’s eye, overtaking all the facts of this “date” Summer gushed about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized this was moving a little slowly and wanted to give you some Hacy goodness. So I hope I delivered at least a little. Plus I had the extra time today. I have a general idea of where this is going. I did not expect it to be this much though. I probably bit of more than I can chew but by goodness I am trying. Hope you all enjoy it!


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